


Burdens

by skirt



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, One sided relationship, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skirt/pseuds/skirt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalya was always such an odd girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burdens

Natalya was always such an odd girl. While her eyes did not shine with neither sadness nor joy, her voice was flat and plain, emotionless and boring, and not even a flicker of a smile had graced her face for nearly as long as you could remember, you knew that was not entirely her true personality. She was odd, yes, but a liar.

You saw the way she flinched at loud noises, the telltale twitch of her hands to some concealed weapon, the way she didn't look anyone in the eye unless it was for intimidation. You could always hear nervous muttering, late at night when she should be sleeping, through the too-thin walls. You heard many things through those walls. Pacing was the most common thing. 

She had nightmares. That, you were certain of. More than a few times you'd been awoken by terrified gasps and muffled sobbing. She took care of it herself fine, you thought, but it made you wonder if she'd appreciate someone to share her troubles with. Somehow, you doubted it.

You made her a journal and tucked it under her door without leaving a note who it was from. You wonder if she uses it. 

You were certain of it: Natalya was not nearly as well-composed as she'd like others to think, and hardly anyone was aware of it. Not even Irina, not Ivan. She kept to herself, and you'd be surprised to learn if she'd ever told them anything in their lives. 

She often spoke to herself, quietly, nearly inaudible if you weren't listening for it, in quick raspy Belarusian, and she'd stop the moment she heard anyone approaching. 

Once, and only once, you caught her singing to herself. An old Ukrainian song Irina had sung often when you and Natalya were younger. You still remembered it word for word, and resisted the urge to sing along. You were glad you hadn't, as the circumstances were unfortunate. Natalya was sitting in the garden, digging long shallow cuts into her thigh with an intimidating looking knife. Occasionally, her singing would cut out enough for her to let out a quiet hiss or to flinch a bit before her flat voice resumed the tune. 

Natalya was always such an odd girl. A sad, paranoid girl with burdens you couldn't understand. You wish you could take them from her. You'd like for her to be happy, no matter the cost. 


End file.
